


The Domestication of Hannibal Lecter

by KitsuneGirl911



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alana is Concerned, Animal Death, Because Hannibal is just a big kitty, Feral Behavior, Feral!Hannibal, Friends to Lovers, Gore, Graphic Description of Murder, Hannibal Gets Kidnapped, Hannibal is Hannibal, Hannibal is a Cannibal, He loves him anyway, Just... Freer, M/M, One Deer Casualty, Or Just Monster Play, Possessive Hannibal, Pseudo-Pet Play, Really. Don't forget that, That should be Hannibal's middle name, That took a while, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, What did you expect with this fandom, Will Finally Realizes His Best Friend Is Creepy, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 08:41:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8137589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitsuneGirl911/pseuds/KitsuneGirl911
Summary: Hannibal gets kidnapped by the Killer of the Week and decides to let loose for a while, ostensibly as an alibi. Cue the 'rescued' feral!Hannibal following Will everywhere and being a creepily adorable monster.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first 'write the whole damn thing before you start posting this stuff, because otherwise it's painfully drawn out, idiot' attempt. This part of the fic (the main story) is complete, but there will be a shorter part two (epilogue) eventually... It might be in a separate story, or it might be attached to this one. Which would you guys prefer?  
> My betas Victorine and RainyRay both helped out with this, thanks guys!  
> I've been in a writing funk for months, sorry that nothing's been updated in forever... I hope this tides you over until my chaptered fics can be updated again. D: I'm also working on the next bit of the 'Non-AU Omegaverse', so that's coming eventually, sorry to keep you guys in limbo.  
> Is there any triggering stuff I forgot to tag guys? I almost forgot the 'animal death' one, sorry. I'd hate to make anyone freak out. :/

That ever-present ache of hunger lurking in his core was reaching heights that had been unknown to him for years. Hannibal lay curled in a mess of ratty blankets in the corner of his cell’s floor. Some crazed researcher had captured him during one of his exceedingly rare unaware moments; they happened much more frequently with Will in the picture. And Hannibal couldn't begrudge the fidgety profiler for it. William was endlessly fascinating, and as Hannibal intended to keep him in his grasp indefinitely, he needed to learn proper control again. Since the FBI was surely aware of his disappearance and who was behind it, Hannibal regrettably couldn’t just kill his way out of this inconvenience. Luckily the man who kidnapped him for a psychological experiment had no idea he'd captured none other than the Chesapeake Ripper. But that man certainly knew he'd caged a special breed of monster. Hannibal had to admit, for all that the researcher’s idea was foolhardy, he still allowed him to think he was rather efficient at bringing down the carefully constructed barriers the psychiatrist made to combat his true nature’s constant struggle to be released in a roaring rage of blood, flesh, and sweet death. In reality, Hannibal had just decided to indulge his freer side to make this captivity more amusing. Besides, his act would lend credibility to his status as a victim.

Yet once this man had (supposedly) succeeded in his aim satisfactorily, he had the gall to try and stoke the flames and strengthen Hannibal’s inner beast even further. He hadn't been fed for days. And so Hannibal had curled up in those truly subpar blankets to conserve body heat and energy. The psychiatrist knew he need only be patient; he'd be fed shortly.

When a man was tossed screaming into Hannibal’s cell he allowed himself a moment of relief that he was at least being fed properly. His captor wanted him to kill, to rend and tear with tooth and claw; how fortunate he had provided Hannibal’s preferred prey. Hannibal lay still and motionless off in the corner, observing the hapless stranger at his leisure. The man pounded at the bolted metal door long after most would have realized it wasn't going to budge, and Hannibal took the time to gauge the quality of his meat. This newcomer was in good health, not overly muscled, and free of any clothes or weapons. Good. Hannibal didn't want any barriers between himself and what his hunger desired with such severity.

Hannibal shifted slightly, mimicking the specific twitching of sound sleep to alert the other to his presence. That incessant banging was long past due its end. The other man jerked around in one quick turn, moving almost comically fast enough to tip himself over. Hannibal closed his eyes fully to turn his other senses towards his tentatively approaching prey. The acrid scent of panicked fear was slowly replaced with a calmer sort of note, as if the man was filled with relief for not being alone in this situation. It was almost a pity how wrong the Ripper’s prey was about his motionless presence.

When Hannibal struck there was nothing tentative about it. Sharp teeth surged upwards as the psychiatrist lunged at and then closed down upon the vulnerable throat carelessly stretched over him in misplaced curiosity and concern. Blood poured coppery sweet into his mouth as the man’s struggles made his heart pound erratically in his chest. He would not survive the bite; his throat was torn out at the front drastically enough to expose the inner physiological workings and ruin countless blood vessels irredeemably. Soft tissue from around the other’s trachea was savored for a brief blissful moment, as wet gurgles, meant to be anguished screams, burbled up from beneath him. Exquisite.

Hannibal cast his cold, bloody maroon gaze down to the dying man's soft underbelly, sure to be full of delicious offal. His mouth watered uncontrollably and Hannibal didn't even bother to suppress his urges; steady fingers sank into the exposed expanse of skin concealing his prize with little care for the man’s pain. Hannibal only made sure he didn't carelessly nick the intestines or stomach; he was not going to contaminate the best portion of his kill.

Layers of muscle and fat were torn through with practiced ease, even without the benefit of a blade. Hannibal's body was as much a honed weapon as any tool could be. Even more so on occasion. Hannibal sunk his face into the gouged abdominal cavity to glut himself on death and his deserved pound of flesh, carving teeth and questing tongue helped along by fingers guided by a lifetime of experience and not by sight.

Belly full for the time being, Hannibal sat back from his feast and licked the lingering blood from around his lips. Then he moved onto his hands, his crimson covered arms… Anywhere stained with blood was licked as clean as possible, to capitalize on both the lovely taste and heighten his believability as a victim. Most humans were wary to trust a man with every bare inch soaked and splattered in the dried sticky blood from another of their own. Sated in his physical hunger as well as in regards to his black psyche’s slavering ache, Hannibal returned gracefully to his nest of ragged cloth, intent to go back to conserving energy and to bask in what comfort he'd finally been afforded in this dank cell.

_+_

When Jack Crawford forced into Hannibal’s cell in a barely controlled burst, his latent hindbrain instincts screamed at him in frenzied terror to run _away_ from the apex predator he'd stumbled upon, even as his rational self sighed in a release of tension at finding the friend he'd been frantically combing the area for. Jack lowered his gun once he confirmed no other living beings were in the dark, wet space. His objective mind took in the savaged corpse lying several feet from the languidly curled up psychiatrist, noting the victim had undoubtedly been eaten alive. Jack’s personal beliefs and feelings violently blocked all thoughts of Hannibal as the attacker. His ever-composed colleague and friend was too clean of blood for that, and no water was available for that level of cleansing. Thus decided, Jack called Will in with a brusque shout.

Will dashed into the room half frantic with worry and then froze at the jarring sight revealed to him. The corpse he ignored for now, instead his whole focus was on his unofficial therapist.

“What have they done to you?” Will breathed out in pained shock, “Hannibal… are you in there?” Maroon eyes gazed with fixed, patent interest at the profiler, who avoided eye contact for safety instead of mere preference this time. The concealed strength that Will was used to seeing restrained so deep within Hannibal had somehow been exposed like a raw nerve or live wire. Hannibal seemed composed for the time being, but that unfettered animal instinct was dangerous even in small amounts- and Hannibal’s entire being embodied that volatile trait right now. One wrong move and they would end up just like that pitiful, hollowed out husk that was once a living man, lying in crystallized agony only footsteps away. Will knew without a doubt Hannibal had been responsible, just as clearly as he knew Jack was turning a blind and denying eye to the elephant in the room.

Jack mutely observed his star profiler for a moment and tried to make sense of Will’s cryptic questions. More important matters earned priority here, however, and Jack turned to call the EMTs to check over the newly rescued hostage.

Will took the opportunity afforded by Jack’s inattention to carefully approach his friend and not-psychiatrist, who was rather adamant about acting like a regally lounging tiger even despite his squalid surroundings. Hannibal didn't speak a word. Just as he hadn't during those years fresh after losing his darling Mischa, until his lovely aunt broke down his first layer of defense. Hannibal was older and wiser this time; he had no use for returning words right now. Hannibal cocked his head to the side, considering the profiler for a moment as the other reached for him cautiously with one barely shaking hand. He then obligingly tilted his head into the offered touch, feeling his ungelled ashen hair softly caress Will's fingertips in return.

Jack was issuing more orders when he caught the low, pleased rumble that filled the small space as Will made wondering contact with this unbound version of Hannibal. Jack whipped around, fully expecting to see Will foolishly petting some dangerous guard dog he'd somehow missed hiding in the dingy cell. His mouth opened as he turned to reprimand the unfailing dog lover but the words died in his throat. What in the hell was he even seeing?

Jack was disturbed to note he was mostly correct in his assumption about Will’s activities, although he couldn't have foreseen that the dog his profiler was petting was none other than Dr. Lecter. Jack cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to break the two from their odd spell. He was ignored. Irritated now, Jack gave in and just outright asked.

“What the hell are you doing, Will?”

Will flinched away from Hannibal, clutching the hand that had been stroking the man’s hair back to his chest as if burnt. Hannibal glared none-too-subtly at Jack, but he was himself enough to know that outright hostility wasn't warranted… yet. Jack was oblivious either way.

“Jack,” Will began tentatively, unsure how to break the news without ending up at Chilton's asylum for an extended stay, “the kidnapper did something to Hannibal, uh… His mental state is different.”

Jack raised one unimpressed eyebrow.

“He has been held captive and lying next to a corpse for who knows how long. Of course he's not going to be one hundred percent!”

Will shook his head with rapid jerks, which sent his curls bouncing back and forth wildly.

“I know that, Jack! I'm talking about something more here. Hannibal seems to have been regressed somehow; he’s running on pure animal instinct now!” Will threw his hands up and then gestured in the psychiatrist's direction, “He hasn't said a word yet, and the Hannibal I know wouldn't be so comfortably curled up in a nest of disgusting blankets even after being rescued! You can't tell me you don't sense that he's changed drastically,” Will challenged his boss firmly, raising his eye level to Jack’s chin in a show of careful defiance.

“Look, Will, you're not the calmest person at the best of times, and we've all been stressed this past week. You're just overreacting.” Up until that moment, Jack had been able to control his temper, but now it surged forth under the weight of that same stress he'd mentioned. “I need your head _here_ , Will, in these cases, with you on _top_ of your game to catch these killers! You can't afford to crack now- people's lives are at stake!” Jack stepped quickly into Will’s personal space to prod at the other’s chest with one finger to drive his point home with a physical push.

A deep growl was Jack’s only warning before he suddenly found himself shoved far away from Will. If he hadn't clearly felt human hands pushing him, Jack would've looked for that guard dog again. Instead he gaped at Hannibal in dumb incredulity as he stared at the incomprehensible scene playing out before him. Hannibal had forcibly gotten between the two as Jack's berating reached a fever pitch, and was now bodily wrapped around Will to turn him away from Jack and thereby block his view of the startled profiler behind his broad, surprisingly muscled back. And to top off the image, the usually stoic psychiatrist was growling like a pissed off Doberman.

“Oh,” Jack commented with as much eloquence as he could muster up at present, “I see what you mean.”

_+_

Hannibal had calmed down slightly when he saw Jack deflate to practically a shade of his usual bluster. The man’s transformation was very satisfying, doubly so as both Will and he had a hand in causing it.

“He is _very_ naked right now,” Will squeaked out (quite unnecessarily) through his skyrocketing embarrassment. Will was desperately trying to do anything other than check out his friend’s revealed physique. He was failing miserably. An army of EMTs swarmed around the pair once it was clear Hannibal wasn't going to extricate himself from Will's person anytime soon, cleaning and patching up the surprisingly few injuries the psychiatrist had sustained in his weeklong imprisonment. One of the men handed Will a pair of pants for Hannibal with poorly disguised, embarrassed pity and, oddly enough, honest kindness shining through the much needed action. The heretofore helpful EMT then scurried off to leave Will with the wonderful job of putting said pants on the man, and the task was easier said than done. Hannibal seemed to want nothing more than to flaunt himself to everyone in Will's vicinity while hugging said profiler tight enough to firmly press a long expanse of golden skin against him. Jack left Will to it, predictably enough.

Eventually, after much pointless cursing and blushing on Will's part, and thinly veiled disapproving growls and struggling on Hannibal's, Will offered an ultimatum.

“Either you put these pants on or God help me, I'll just leave you here alone!” Will scolded his friend sternly in the particular tone of voice he usually reserved for his most stubborn strays, eyeing Hannibal unblinkingly to prove he was not kidding around anymore. Whether respecting Will's firm stance or heeding the threat of losing Will's continued presence, Hannibal conceded to the order with no more than a put-out huff of air.

Jack turned back around now that he was sure Hannibal was no longer able to flash him (Jack swore he was even doing it on purpose), and immediately choked back a laugh. Will was clearly channeling his experienced dog owner side, arms akimbo as he glared reproachfully at Hannibal, who finished off the surreal image by looking every bit the cowed puppy. Unfortunately Jack’s feigned coughing fit turned real partway in, so the other two watched in obvious bemusement as the head of the BAU composed himself in small increments. Jack got the distinct impression that they thought _he_ was the weird one.

_+_

“He can't be left alone like this,” Jack remarked slowly, once they were finished gathering evidence from Hannibal, “but I don't think we should commit the man or anything…” Jack tapped a finger along the brim of the hat he was holding for a few contemplative moments, before he turned his focus towards Will. “Do you think you can watch him over at your place tonight?”

Will side-eyed Hannibal warily; he was practically vibrating with happiness beside him.

“ _He's_ certainly not going to complain…” Will muttered with half-hearted ire, “Yeah why not- it's the least I can do.”

Jack nodded curtly, put his hat back on, and crossed the parking lot with his hands deep in his coat pockets. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world; Will wasn't sure if he envied him or not. With a sigh he turned to look at Hannibal again.

“Come on, let's get you out of this cold- though it's your own fault if you freeze, not wearing even a shirt.”

Hannibal's new, remarkably puppyish behavior continued as the psychiatrist followed him placidly to the car. There was a mild bit of confusion over the seat belts; Hannibal apparently thought himself invulnerable, and heartily disapproved when Will, flustered from reaching over his friend to buckle him in, forgot his own. The resounding click when Hannibal fixed the problem somehow carried the weight of a thousand chastisements. How the hell the man accomplished such a feat was beyond Will. Honestly, he didn't know how Hannibal accomplished half of the impressive things he did on a consistent basis; it was as awe-inspiring as it was maddening.

As they drove back to Wolf Trap, Hannibal alternated between staring intently at Will and monitoring their surroundings for any potential dangers in complete, unnerving silence. Will almost assured his friend nothing was going to happen to them, but he stopped mid-word when he pictured the Look he would surely get.

They pulled up to a welcoming chorus of dog barks, and Will prayed this reintroduction would go over without any bloodshed. He needn't have worried.

Winston greeted Will warmly before sniffing a nonchalant Hannibal cautiously.

“Yeah, you all know Hannibal… And yeah he's a bit different now. We'll deal with it, right guys?” Will left Hannibal briefly to hang up his coat. _God, I hope we can deal with it…_ When the profiler turned back around he stopped short.

Hannibal was sitting in a pile with his dogs. He was completely at ease and the others seemed to respect him like he was their alpha. Will blinked slowly.

“Bonding over mutual interest in protecting me?” he asked bemusedly, “Just remember who actually runs this house.” He had avoided it before, in the car, but Will had no such luck this time; Hannibal gave him a Look. “Whatever, it's too late for this,” Will grumbled, rubbing his eyes tiredly, “I'm going to bed.”

Will undressed to his underwear and turned off his lights. Hannibal was settled on the dog beds.

Or, he _was_. Hannibal relocated to Will's bed almost before the profiler heard him move.

“That's kind of weird, Hannibal,” Will griped.

He didn't push him away.

_+_

The next morning, Will awoke to the groggy realization that he'd actually slept well. He woke up significantly more when he realized Hannibal was wrapped around him like an imposing limpet. And the psychiatrist was awake. Staring at him from inches away.

“Good morning to you too… Has anyone ever told you that you're astoundingly creepy? Because you are; I don't know how I didn't notice it before this whole mess,” Will informed his friend matter-of-factly, disentangling himself from the other man (naked again, and unwilling to help Will escape) to stumble off to the bathroom. Surprisingly, Hannibal didn't follow or barge in. Maybe he knew Will would've thrown him out of the house for that.

Refreshed, Will emerged with much more wakeful grace than he'd possessed going in. Hannibal was still in bed; he had dozed off again, and Will wondered if maybe he wasn't a morning person after all. He sure seemed the type to wake up inhumanly quickly though. That explained some things. Will let him sleep.

The relatively rare sound of a car crunching its way up Will's driveway led him to leave off making coffee to investigate.

“Will, how is he?” Alana asked with deep concern, “I heard Hannibal was acting strangely when you guys found him…”

“He's… fine? He’s still asleep right now, so I can't tell you for certain if he's back to normal or not.” Will shrugged apologetically. “I was just making coffee; we can wait until he wakes up.”

Alana followed him in, and they quietly snuck past Hannibal on the bed in the living room, heading for Will's kitchen. They didn't have long to wait; Hannibal snapped awake as they attempted to evade his notice. Will was right in his previous supposition; Hannibal just went from out cold to full alertness in .5 seconds. Alana and Will froze mid-step like children caught snooping where they didn't belong.

“Hannibal!” Alana exclaimed softly, surprised.

“Pants,” Will stated firmly, tossing the pair Hannibal had worn the night before at him before he could stand up.

Alana whipped around with a slightly red face as Hannibal put them on with absolutely no trace of self-consciousness. Maybe it was a European thing.

Now at least partially clothed, Hannibal went right to Will and fisted one hand in the profiler’s shirt. Alana's shrewd eyes followed the motion interestedly.

“Hannibal hasn’t been saying anything?” she asked. Will shook his head solemnly. “He seems very attached to you…”

“Understatement of the year…” Will mumbled grumpily.

“I think the trauma from his kidnapping has caused Hannibal to regress.” Alana tapped her chin thoughtfully. “He's adopted a childlike state to help him cope.”

Will idly wondered what children she'd ever seen that acted like this.

“Alana…” Will began, hesitant to disagree so soon.

Alana turned to Hannibal.

“Hannibal, you're safe now; you don't have to be scared anymore,” she said gently.

Will could feel the offended aura the psychiatrist gave off without even looking at the man’s expression. Will knew Hannibal wasn't scared; Hannibal felt he was stronger like this. He was a predator at the top of the food chain, not a dependent child clutching for comfort! How could Alana not see it?

“You're going to have to emphasize that he's safe if he'll be staying with you, Will. He's terrified!” Alana exclaimed pityingly, and it was the last straw.

The low snarl that ripped through Hannibal's chest startled Alana; Will had been waiting for it.

“H-Hannibal?” she queried shakily. Said psychiatrist bared his teeth and growled at her, clearly angered by her misdiagnosis. “Oh my God; he didn't regress to a child, he regressed to an animalistic state!” The growling ceased, but Hannibal's lip was still curled in distaste.

“I tried to tell you, Alana… Maybe you should go; he's obviously not happy with you right now,” Will reluctantly suggested.

“Yeah, I- I think that'd be a good idea,” Alana agreed, slightly shaken. Will saw her to the door as Hannibal glared from his previous spot, rigid and unmoving. “Will,” Alana started softly, “if you need someone to talk to about all of this, I'm here for you…” She laid a comforting hand on Will's arm for only a bare second before Hannibal forcibly removed it and wrapped himself around Will possessively. His displeasure was a palpable thing.

Alana swallowed nervously and stepped outside, heading to her car with a slightly wobbly stride. Will turned in Hannibal's arms to look at the psychiatrist critically.

“Did you have to do that? Alana is our friend!” Will shouted in exasperation. Hannibal's expression clearly stated that he thought he was the correct party in this disagreement. He grabbed Will's shirt again, happy to be able to keep his beloved profiler near. Will put his face in his hands and sighed heavily.

_+_

“Alright, so… I've got to go to work,” Will began hesitantly, only to be wordlessly grumbled at enough to understand what his feral friend thought of that. It was mostly an emphatic sentiment of ‘No. Stay here forever,’ that Will picked up. “I _am_ going to work,” Will tried again, “and you are staying here, got it?”

Hannibal did get it, by the looks of things, and as Will closed his front door on his moping almost-official psychiatrist, the profiler tried stolidly to ignore the pained and baleful puppy dog eyes he was being given. Will felt like a jerk the entire drive to Quantico.

_+_

Will had experienced plenty of separation anxiety reactions over his years of owning dogs, but he'd never seen anything like this. There was a dead deer on his front porch, accompanied by a proud, naked Hannibal who had been absolutely soaked with blood in the process of mauling the poor animal. With what appeared to have been his bare hands. And teeth. Hannibal stood smoothly and stalked over to Will all loose-limbed from relief at having Will there again. And then, as Will stood there stunned, Hannibal proceeded to nuzzle up against him, rubbing his dried and flaky blood-coated cheek on Will’s. Naturally, the stubble there worked quite handily at scraping bits of dried blood off of Hannibal and onto Will's previously clean face.

“What-” Will tried in a monotone, “What even happened here?” He gestured with much disbelieving flailing at the incredibly deceased animal that had its throat torn out and- oh God- its belly slit and organs clearly missing. “Please tell me you didn't actually eat this deer for lunch,” Will begged helplessly and hopelessly, “because I'm sure that's not healthy… Not to mention disturbing as fuck.”

Surprisingly, in response, Hannibal said the first thing he had since they rescued him.

“Will…” he said, breathy with happiness but with an undercurrent of exasperation.

Hannibal lapsed into silence right after, and Will resigned himself to the fact that that was all he was going to get. And that he was going to have to hose off his porch thoroughly once he figured out how Hannibal put the deer there in the first place, and get him to reverse the process.

As Will debated over how to achieve this, Hannibal tugged on Will's shirt, insistently.

“Will,” he chirped, tugging said profiler to the front door eagerly.

“Alright, I’m coming…” Will groaned, dreading whatever it was that Hannibal was so keen to show him. As he opened his door he was met with the mouthwatering scents of Hannibal's famous cooking. Will shook his head in disbelief. “You killed a deer without any weapons, dragged it to my porch like a proud cat with a bird, didn't bother to clean the gore off yourself _whatsoever_ , but you cooked for me and cleaned my kitchen better than I had left it?”

“Will,” Hannibal said with a nod, as if that explained even a fraction of what went through his mind during this sequence of events. It didn't.

Will ate the lovingly prepared venison heart, because why the hell not, and decided to bring Hannibal to work with him the next day, to avoid a repeat performance.

_+_

Will had Hannibal listen in the back room of his lecture hall, and overall, it worked out well. Hannibal contented himself with listening and watching in secret, didn't strip down naked, didn't kill anything, and scared away Will's most persistent students at the ends of his lectures. Hannibal achieved this by peering intensely out at them from behind the door of the back room, through a crack just big enough for them to see his eyes.

Needless to say, the intimidated students abandoned their questions for Will and skittered away with little preamble.

Will supposed it was benefit number one of having Hannibal as his human guard dog…

Will had brought Hannibal a container of salvaged venison for lunch, knowing that the cafeteria food wouldn't stand up to Hannibal's scrupulous standards by a long shot. They ate in Will's office in peace and quiet (save Hannibal's occasional contented “Will”) until Alana walked in.

“I heard you brought a bodyguard with you to class to terrify your students away,” she joked, “and now I see it's just Hannibal!”

Hannibal looked mildly affronted at being ‘just’ anything, but Alana didn't notice, too glad to see her mentor out of the house; _progress_ , she thought.

“Will…” Hannibal grumbled quietly, but as was his wont lately, said nothing else.

Will grimaced.

“Before you ask, no he's not back to normal, and yes, all he'll say is my name; it's his sole vocabulary while he’s like this.” He threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “That's it. Just ‘Will. Will. Will.’ All day long! He'll whisper it to himself when he's alone. He'll say it as a greeting to me. He'll wrap himself around me and quietly repeat it over and over… I can't honestly tell if it's creepy or endearing; my money's on both,” Will said, finishing his mini-tirade with a heavy sigh.

Alana looked concerned, and stated, “I'm going to contact some colleagues of mine to get a second opinion, he should've been fine by now.”

“Will,” Hannibal entreated, transferring his leftovers (that Will suspected he purposely set aside) to Will's now empty lunch container, and watching avidly until he started to eat again.

Satisfied, Hannibal turned a dispassionate gaze to Alana, as if questioning why she was still there, interrupting his quiet time with his Will. Small spots of color bloomed on her cheeks and she almost scolded Hannibal for being rude, but she refrained, at once unsure if that was the sentiment he intended her to receive, and unwilling to be growled at again if it was. So she bid them both a quick goodbye, Hannibal now obviously dismissing her as Will was engrossed in grading papers, and then turned on her heel with warning bells starting to ring in her mind.

_+_

Will had some misgivings about what he was about to do, but he figured it was now or never.

“Hannibal?”

Said feral psychiatrist sat up from his doze to give Will his full attention, able to tell from the tone of Will's voice that this was important.

“I got you something,” Will started to explain, keeping one hand behind his back to keep what he'd gotten a secret, “Don't take this the wrong way- I meant this as a promise, not-” Will cut himself off, realizing he was diving into a full-on promise ring speech, and bit the bullet by revealing the secret item to Hannibal's curious eyes, and then averting his own.

It was a collar, made of comfortable-looking black leather that Hannibal looked at with slowly dawning awe. He arched his neck, powerful shoulders pushed back proudly as Will fastened the collar around the feral man’s neck. Almost instantly the mood in the air shifted in intensity.

“ _Will_ ,” Hannibal growled darkly, right before he dragged Will down onto the bed and beneath his stronger frame.

Will would only admit to making a manly yelp of shock at being manhandled, not the embarrassingly high-pitched noise that was actually forced out of his lungs. Will had a brief moment to panic; was he taking advantage of Hannibal in this state? Yet Hannibal was still as cognizant as he always was, even while in feral, he just had a different reaction set to situations. In hindsight, their quickly formed friendship was heading this way all along; this version of Hannibal finally wanted to do something about it. Hell, regular Hannibal might’ve by this point too- Will would never know, so he relaxed as much as he could.

Hannibal went straight to licking at all of Will's exposed skin he could reach, interspersed with sharp nips of teeth, leaving his mark as he went. Frustrated with the barrier of clothing between him and his chosen mate, Hannibal tore Will's clothes (no better than rags, in his opinion) off of him with a few rough jerks punctuated by the sound of sundered fabric. Will found Hannibal's frantic rutting against him not only insanely hot (the usually stuffy psychiatrist reduced to the carnal and base), but weirdly… cute. Hannibal being so undone by being both physically and emotionally close to him that he lost all composure was definitely endearing. Hoping to convey this and hopefully calm the raging storm that was Hannibal's feral lust, Will wrapped his arms around Hannibal's shoulders and pressed a sweet peck of a kiss to the other man’s lips.

Hannibal fairly _melted_ at once. With a love struck sigh he situated Will onto his side and himself behind him, Hannibal's heavy cock nestled against Will's cleft with a steady pressure. Nuzzling into the crook of the profiler's neck, Hannibal reached down to position his leaking sex between Will's thighs, now pressing delightfully against Will's perineum, sending shocks of pleasure through them both. And then Hannibal started to move, sliding up to prod at Will's balls and back along the sensitive stretch of skin behind, gently but with urgency. Will clutched his thighs tighter together with a moan.

“Will…” Hannibal gasped reverently, thrusting faster now but no less carefully.

“That's- That’s good Hannibal, so good- ah!”

Will was moving just as quickly as Hannibal was, following his sensual rhythm seamlessly. Hannibal panted into Will's neck, occasionally dragging his tongue through the gathering pheromone-laden sweat there, eager for more of a taste, but holding back for the moment. Will was having none of that. Just as Hannibal reached around to stroke Will in time with his thrusts, Will reached back to tug at Hannibal's mussed hair.

“Don't hold back; I'm so close, Hannibal!” Will cried.

With a bass growl, Hannibal complied, latching onto where Will's shoulder and neck met with sharp, dangerous teeth, which were nonetheless tempered by soft emotions. It wasn't a strong enough bite to draw blood, but it was sharp enough that when Will came at the heady pressure, he knew he'd be wearing the imprint of his new lover’s teeth for some time. Nearing his own end, Hannibal pressed ever closer, just grinding incessantly at this point, loath to draw back even the short distance his previous motions required. He gripped Will's thighs between his powerful hands and pressed them even closer together, the fantastically tight tunnel made of Will's skin and muscle and bone finally drawing forward Hannibal's release, which only added to the mess of cum already marking Will, his dearest beloved _mate_.

_+_

In Will's Quantico classroom the next day, Alana finally pulled the profiler aside, away from Hannibal, who stared at them intently from his place at Will's desk. Alana must've thought she was out of earshot, but Hannibal could hear every word.

“Will, I think it's time to consider that you might be keeping Hannibal like this,” she stated frankly. Softening the blow, she continued, “Inadvertently, I'm sure, but I can’t allow this to continue… He may never go back to normal at this rate.” She looked sadly at Will, who avoided her gaze more than usual, if that were even possible.

“I… understand,” he said reluctantly.

“Tomorrow we have to begin a course of therapy. I contacted a colleague of mine, and he says he'll take Hannibal on as a patient. I'll leave it to you to tell him; he hasn't been too happy with me lately.” Alana stopped to sigh slowly, upset by the situation. “I'll see you later, Will.”

Will trudged back to Hannibal like he was taking a long walk off a short pier. He grudgingly relayed Alana's message out of politeness rather than any personal desire to do so. Hannibal frowned ever so slightly as Will moped. It was time to cut his freedom short, lest he and his Will be separated. But before he did so, Hannibal craved the ultimate release.

_+_

Hannibal petted his collar as he watched Will sleeping soundly beside him. As much as he enjoyed taking in every sweet and soft sigh and murmur Will made, he had to go now, whilst his profiler was unaware. Hannibal dressed in some of Will's more questionable fashion choices (he shouldn’t miss them) to be ready for the taxi he had called to take him to his own house. Hannibal’s turned up shirt collar hid his leather one from the cabbie’s desultory once over.

_+_

It had been too long. While the deer’s death had been satisfying, it was nothing like going after his true prey in the same beastly way. He'd continued his previously in progress hunt, going after a particularly rude accountant who'd tried to appropriate some of Hannibal’s funds and pass it off as a bookkeeping error.

Hannibal returned the favor by appropriating some of the man’s flesh in large, savage bites. The Chesapeake Ripper never took his pound of flesh with anything other than a well-sharpened blade, but the collared Ripper, Will’s adoring monster, most certainly would. His prey’s thrashing grew tiresome, so Hannibal gripped the soft front of the man’s throat with his bloodstained teeth and shook threateningly. The accountant stilled in terror immediately. Hannibal rumbled in his chest, pleased with this submission, and contemplated where to sample next. The cheeks _were_ the tenderest meat on any animal, as his aunt’s cook had said… He bit down with sharp teeth and shook and pulled, twisting off first one and then the other, quite painfully, if the screams were any indication. Belly full and beast nearly sated, Hannibal sat back on his haunches and considered his prey.

He removed his collar gently and with it his veil of civility returned, tucking inky blackness back under his usual stoic face. Hannibal went over to his bag of supplies that he'd brought for the second half of this kill, and removed a scalpel and a small cooler. With the scalpel he cut out each bite he had taken out of the unfortunate man, eliminating any possible dental print or saliva matches. By then his victim’s blood loss was reaching critical levels, so Hannibal decided to turn his attention to removing at least a few organs while the accountant was still breathing.

His supply of meat for the next week procured, Hannibal set about making this man's body a properly intriguing display for Will. It was a bit risky, his design this time, but even if Jack eventually connected the far-spread dots, the epiphany would come at too late a time to catch him.

_+_

“If this is a Ripper kill, he's seriously changed his M.O.,” Jack said concernedly to Will when he arrived on the scene, “We need you to confirm whether it's him or not.”

Nodding but only half with it, Will stepped forward. It was odd that Jack was disturbed by a tableau, even as slightly as he was. What was even more odd and disturbing was how out of sorts Will felt since he woke up alone, with a beautifully penned note beside his bed instead of his naked psychiatrist enfolding him. It was wrong to miss Hannibal's feral side, but the evidence was all there. Will felt like he might deserve Alana's ‘unbalanced’ label at this point…

The Chesapeake Ripper’s victim this time had been mauled. While their edges were neat now, they were obviously bite marks, mouth-sized hunks of meat torn out and no doubt swallowed immediately. Jack was right: something important had changed in the Ripper. Jack was probably thinking this man pissed him off somehow, enraged the Ripper and subsequently suffered more for it. Will was sure the Ripper wouldn't leave obviously personal clues like that. No, this man was no more special than any other before him. The victim this time was posed as if biting his own arm with his bloodstained teeth, as if _he_ had been the one to eat himself, and not the Ripper. But the single most damning piece of evidence for Will was the brown tooled leather dog collar affixed around the dead accountant’s neck.

_+_

Will's already tenuous mental wellbeing had apparently plummeted since Hannibal had left the profiler's house and hid his feral side away again. Unfortunately for the psychiatrist, Will had been avoiding him and not returning his increasingly worried calls. What was to be done about that?

_+_

On the fourth evening of Will's self-imposed exile, Hannibal pulled up the man’s gravel driveway in his Bentley. Will's dogs barked happily at the familiar sound, which to them meant fancy treats, no doubt alerting Will to just exactly who had arrived.

Hannibal knocked gently on the door, calling out, “Will, I know you're in there, please let me in.”

To Will, Hannibal's plaintive voice reminded him of the Erlking, as if he would be snatched up the moment he caved. So he resisted, albeit with a hesitant sway in the door’s direction.

“Will, we both know what has been keeping you up these past three nights; you know I can help.”

And boy, did Will ever. But it wouldn't be the _same_ with Hannibal civilized again. However, if anyone could solve the problem, it was the one who caused it in the first place.

Will caved.

“Alright, I’m coming.”

He shooed his excitedly milling dogs back from the door and opened it, settling his droopy eyes no higher than Hannibal's tie.

Immediately, Hannibal shouldered his way into Will's home and enveloped the exhausted man in a tight, soothing hug. He quieted Will's halfhearted protests with gentle petting of the profiler's soft curls.

“I'm here now, dearest Will. I think it's time for bed, yes?” Hannibal spoke as if he was asking a question, but he couldn't hide the command within his words.

Will's eyelids lowered without his bidding as Hannibal backed him up to and then into his messy, recently little-used bed. He must've made some noise of discontent, for Hannibal cooed at him, “Hush now darling…” before going back to his task to get Will undressed and tucked under the covers.

Task completed, Hannibal left briefly to bring over a chair, clearly intending to sit vigil over Will's much-needed rest. He ran calming fingers through Will's hair, looking down fondly at the profiler- _his_ profiler, in more ways than one.

The brunet was on the same mental wavelength as Hannibal yet again, and he managed to murmur before he dropped off into dreamland, “I knew about you as soon as the Ripper went feral.”

_Well,_ Hannibal thought, _he knows now, for better or worse…_ Hannibal knew it would be for the better. To ensure that outcome, however, Hannibal withdrew from Will's side again to go get a certain couple objects from out of the bag he'd left in his car.

_+_

Will awoke feeling like he'd travelled back in time, to the blessedly simple era he'd known right after Hannibal had been rescued from that killer. The psychiatrist was wrapped in an almost suffocating way around Will, and- here Will shifted slightly, and felt only bare skin against his nightclothes- he was naked save for the collar pressed up against Will's head. Hannibal sensed the tentative motions of his darling profiler feeling out where things stood this morning and nuzzled in even closer.

“Will,” he purred happily with a sigh, “ _Will_.”

“Hannibal…?” Will started to ask, breathless with hope, but unable to find the proper words.

“ _Mine_ ,” Hannibal growled with dark promise, starting to tear at Will's undershirt with impatience.

Will helped by pushing off his boxers as Hannibal made short work of his shirt, which surprisingly made it off and onto the floor in one piece. Will was bared at last to Hannibal's possessive gaze, which drank in every flushed inch of him greedily. He leaned over to Will's bedside table and grabbed something Will couldn't see. But he could hear as a plastic cap popped open and he sucked in an overwhelmed breath when he realized it must be lube. Hannibal was going to fuck his claim into him properly, and Will didn't plan for one second to temper Hannibal's need in any way this time around. The beast deserved to be unleashed, unfettered, and completely undone in every way. Will could hardly wait.

Two slicked fingers rubbed against his entrance and Will pulled his legs up and back to grant Hannibal full access. The stretch and burn was more than Will knew it could've been, but he wanted it, God- he _wanted_ it.

“More, c’mon Hannibal,” Will whined with sweet desperation, pushing his hips further down on Hannibal's fingers to get his point across. He felt feral himself, at this point, taken in and away on a rushing tide of lust.

And who was Hannibal, Will's beloved beast, to ignore his honeyed goading? He added a third digit perfunctorily, before drawing away his hand, rearing up and pushing in with his cock in one swift motion. Will's breath punched out of his lungs in a long whine as heat and pressure overwhelmed him.

“Ah, _yes_!” he cried, as Hannibal started a bruising rhythm right away, pounding into Will with thrusts savage enough to move the brunet further up the bed.

While Will was struggling to process so much pain-tinged pleasure, Hannibal was similarly overcome. With his collar on, his feral mindset was allowed to take over, and mingling lust and bloodlust stormed around Hannibal's mind. The only thing that could make this first thorough claiming better, he thought, was if they were rutting amidst Will's first free kill. By his own fledgling killer’s hands or his most deadly pet’s (Hannibal no longer minded the thought of being such for Will), it didn't matter- it would be glorious, beautiful.

Hannibal leaned down over Will's sweat-glistening body and snaked out his tongue for a taste. Immediately he felt the urge to mark, to bite. Not one to resist any pleasurable craving, he latched onto the space between Will's flushed neck and shoulder with sharp teeth. Will arched up with a gasp at the thrill of having his precious monster’s deadly fangs so close to such a vulnerable spot. Now he wanted to see those teeth in action.

He had admittedly been upset at first, when he bridged the darkest gap in his mind only to find Hannibal waiting proudly on the Chesapeake Ripper’s throne of breathtaking gore. But what he'd done hadn't changed who he'd been this whole time: Will's closest friend and lover. Displaying a Ripper victim with a decidedly feral slant to the kill was a message to Will. _Here I am_ , it read, _come and play, you who hold my leash…_

Will wasn't sure he'd ever get past his anxiety about taking a life himself, but having Hannibal do so, ending terrible criminals’ reigns of terror (however the Ripper was choosing his prey previously, Will planned to shift that focus to more acceptable targets) was more likely.

Sensing his mate’s mind was distracted from the here and now, Hannibal increased his efforts, lifting Will's slim hips up off the bed to grant a deeper angle for his thrusts. Will shouted in surprise and Hannibal shot an unrepentant, bared-teeth grin back at Will's quick miffed glare that faded into bliss a second later.

“Hannibal- I'm close!” Will cried, the new angle and new pace undoing him swiftly. He tried to get a hand on his aching dick but Hannibal saw and quickly replaced Will's hand with his own in a fit of possessiveness.

“ _Mine,_ Will,” Hannibal growled, nearing his end as well.

“Yours,” Will agreed in a sigh of acceptance and release, spilling between them, only to have his agreement push Hannibal over the edge as well.

They fell down into damp, tousled sheets panting to catch their breath, Hannibal curling tight around his darling again and refusing to pull out until time passing forced him to. Long moments passed and Will was near dozing when Hannibal reached up to unbuckle his collar.

“Hannibal?” Will questioned tentatively, feeling a difference in the man wrapped around him.

“My darling Will, nothing on this earth compares to your splendor,” Hannibal whispered reverently.

Will blushed, terribly unused to such praise. He decided to change the subject, lest Hannibal shower him with endearments for an indefinite period of time.

“So is this… a thing now? You putting on the collar when one of us needs that? Either when I need to take care of you or when you need a break from your iron control…”

“I'd say it most assuredly can be a ‘thing’ if you so wish it,” Hannibal answered without actually answering. Again.

Will rolled his eyes but snuggled closer to _his_ monster.

“Just say yes, Hannibal, geez.”

**Author's Note:**

> Favorite two parts of this? Will being exasperated about WTF DEER WHY, and the near-simultaneous " 'Hannibal?' 'Pants.' ". XD  
> I hope you guys enjoyed this, and I'm gonna turn back to my in-progress fics now that I've had a break to get my head straight. *crosses fingers* Here's hoping my funk ends.  
> (Also, I always ask but doesn't *anybody* have a request for a scene they want in one of my fics, either an in-progress one or a new one? It honestly helps to get outside story ideas to get back into writing.)


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